James Potter, My Father
by Cattatra
Summary: James has returned to Harry's life at a critical time, when Harry is distancing himself from friends in an effort to save them. Can his father save Harry from this destructive path, or can the lure of family, finally, win through?
1. Mother McGonagall

**James Potter, My Father**

**Disclaimer; I own nothing to do with Harry Potter.**

**A/N 1; Back in December, moping for Christmas and glaring at the presents under the tree that tempted me so, I thought what it would be like for Harry if he suddenly hadhis father back. It's been growing since, and here's the first, trial, chapter. If people like it I will continue, but you have to review to let me know either way. There are loads of holes as the story isn't finished yet, and I'm not sure what 'fine points' I'm going to make. If you see conflicting data please let me know so I can go back and sort it.

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September 12th, 1996 **

Attack on Manchester

12 dead

Alison Kison, 83, Avada Kedavra

Jennifer Kison, 12, Cruciatus

Julie Kison, 57, Avada Kedavra

Michael Kison, 12, Avada Kedavra

Kirsten Miles, 3, Hara Kiri

Luke Miles, 7, Suffocation

Oliver Miles, 34, Suicide

Opal Miles, 31, Avada Kedavra

Kirsten Rouge, 70, Heart Attack

Lucy Rouge, 15, Avada Kedavra

Karl Rouge, 4, Hanged

Jonathan Samson, 8, Blood Loss

May all that is holy and good keep them safe on their journey.

Harry closed the notebook and looked up from his bed. The room was empty. He wiped his eyes and locked the book, before placing it on his bed and moving to his bedside table. He took out his photo album and began to flick through it, allowing the tears to fall freely.

This was the only time he let emotion show nowadays. At all other times he presented a stolid, slightly hostile mask. He refused to let emotion show. He kept a firm grip on them so Voldemort would have no access to his mind.

'Clear your mind,' Snape had said. Well, Harry had learnt to do that all right. He thought about nothing except work now, training constantly to be able to defeat Voldemort. He had stopped doing homework, much too many of his teachers annoyance, in favour of working out in the room of requirement. He had had them all talking to him firmly, and detentions set. He just didn't turn up.

When McGonagall called him to her office to ream him out earlier that day he had merely replied, with a raised eyebrow, "I see death every night, professor. What punishment could you give me that is worse than that? I would willingly be subjected to Cruciatus twenty times a day than witness what I witness nightly." He had turned on his heel and left then, and come to his room. He got his notebook out and wrote last nights deaths out, allowing the tears to fall.

He curled on his side as he watched his mother and father laughing and holding each other tenderly. As he watched they shared a soft kiss. He smiled sadly. He would never understand what they had felt for each other now. He had cut off all emotional ties. Nothing mattered in his life except for killing Voldemort. After that? He was going to move to New Zealand and live like a Muggle. Up sticks and get away. What was there to keep him here? Realistically? His friends? He didn't let himself care about them anymore. That frustrated Voldemort no end. The man had lost a bargaining tool. His family? Ha! Voldemort could take them with pleasure. The only thing keeping him here was Voldemort.

Harry looked up when he heard the dorm door open, frowning. The others knew to keep a good distance away from him when he came in. They let him have the dorm to himself for as long as he was there. So who had come to invade his privacy?

McGonagall looked at him through narrowed eyes. Harry's face was dry now, and his mask in place.

"Professor Dumbledore would like to see you, Harry." Harry picked up his notebook silently and rolled off the bed, straightened his school robes, and swept past her, through the common room, out of the portrait hole, through the corridors, to the gargoyle. She gave the password when she caught up with him, and caught his shoulder before he could take a step.

"What might happen up there might be a shock Harry." She warned calmly. "If you need to talk, come and find me. Alright?"

Harry raised a sardonic eyebrow. "Professor, I ran out of the need to talk to people long ago, when the only people I had to talk to hit me if I tried to." He strode onto the stairs and up, leaving her gaping below.

He knocked on the oak door and was admitted entrance. There were two occupied chairs, and Dumbledore. He could not see one of the people, but the other was Snape. Harry closed the door and leant against it.

"If this is about detentions I explained to McGonagall. If this is about homework I was busy. If this is about Voldemort, trust me I probably already know. If this is about Snape hating me, go figure, he's an arse, let's move on people. If this is about Aurour training forget it, I'm concentrating on surviving the war too hard to think about work yet, and if it's about if I have any news, then no, I don't. Now that is out of the way is there anything else you want to talk to me about?"

"You haven't told him?" A slightly rough voice, from the unseen seated man. Harry didn't recognise it.

"He has not been the most approachable person recently." Dumbledore said mildly.

"Like you in sixth year." Snape muttered into his tea.

"Severus," Dumbledore said warningly.

"Yawn, tired, was a tad busy when McGonagall came in."

"What were you busy with, Harry?"

Harry took a gamble. "Totalling the death count so far. Did you know twelve people died last night? And here we are just nattering about the weather! How very jolly."

"How did you know that, Potter!" Snape snapped. Harry rolled his eyes and jabbed at his scar.

"Direct link though this, remember? You go on about it enough, what with me being an attention seeker because of it."

"Harry, I have some very important news for you." Dumbledore said, leaning forwards. "A close relative of yours has recently been found, when we believed him to have been dead. He has… been adamant about taking you into his care."

"Well whoop de doo." Harry said, deadpanned. "Are we sure he isn't a Death Eater?"

"I can say, with a certainty, that he is not a Death Eater. He has been in their care for the past fifteen years. Namely, Lucius Malfoy's care."

"Lucius Malfoy. The Lucius Malfoy who was released from prison two months ago? The Lucius Malfoy who has a son called Draco? That Lucius Malfoy?"

"Yes, he negotiated that if he was released he would inform us of this relative's location."

"Not being rude or anything, but we are at war here. Sacrifice one to save the many and all that. Lucius was having a lot of fun last night. Twelve counts of fun, to be imprecise. There are of course seventeen raped girls, three raped boys, all of them children, three tortured until they are in a state like the Longbottom's and an old lady who is not expected to live out the night."

"My god, he is nothing like me." The invisible man said.

"He's utterly like you!" Snape exploded. "He's angry because we interrupted him during a childish bout of sexual gratification I'm sure!"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "One, I was not 'wanking', second, I am… I _was_ not angry, just slightly annoyed at this pointless meeting, third, I don't 'wank', and fourth, I most likely will never be able to achieve, as you said, sexual gratification. Fifth, I don't know that that is your business anyway."

"With all the girls after you for your fame, Potter, and you think you won't ever have a girlfriend. My heart bleeds for you."

"No, Snape. I will never have a girlfriend. But please reflect that I said I will never be able to achieve sexual pleasure. But enough about that. Who is this relative, and how do I tell him thanks but no thanks, I don't need another person to look after in this war."

"Would you like to introduce yourself?" Dumbledore offered the man in the chair. Harry cursed inwardly, but stood his ground. The chair turned and his eyes widened in shock.

"James Potter," his own face said back at him. "Nice to meet you, Harry."

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**A/N 2; **Not really a shock, who was in the chair I suppose. Please review, I really don't know wether to continue with this or not.


	2. Lady Louisa

**James Potter, My Father**

**A/N 1; Chapter two peeps! I must say I was happy with all the reviews I got; I never expected so many for one chappy! So here you go everyone, chapter 2, hope you all like it as much as the last. Please remember, Harry is very shocked that James has returned to life, so he might react differently to how you expect, ie sometimes he's cold, sometimes he's anxious. There are other reasons too, as you may find out, but keep reading!

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****Chapter 2**

**Lady Louisa**

Harry stared for a long moment. "Polyjuice?" he croaked. Dumbledore shook his head. "Glamour?"

"His DNA confirms who he is, Harry." Dumbledore said quietly.

James' eyes were roaming Harry's body and face, taking in all that had changed in his son's appearance.

"You look different from the photo's I've seen." He croaked eventually.

Harry blinked. "I haven't had my picture taken since fourth year." He replied emptily.

His father was sitting in front of him. James Potter. His father. A man whose face he had been looking at not half an hour ago, kissing his mother sweetly. His head was reeling.

"That might explain why then."

"How?" Harry whispered, looking earnestly at the man. He was slim, as though he had not been cared for properly for a long time, and his hair was going slightly grey. His eyes were brown and the wrong shape, and he had no scar, but other than that he was a perfect older replica of Harry. Except for the height. Harry could tell that if he stood up this man would be over a head and shoulders taller than him. Which was not hard, as Harry was easily the smallest sixth year boy.

"Lucius was with Voldemort the night they came to Godric Hollow." Snape sighed, drooping in his chair slightly. "Voldemort only stunned your father, and Lucius took him from the house before it exploded. He then Apparated away when Voldemort was destroyed and locked him in his manor. He's been there ever since. A bargaining chip if ever it was needed."

Harry nodded. It made sense, in a cold, logical sort of way. But Harry could feel the irrational urge to scream and shout welling inside him.

"I assume you've been free since Malfoy was set free?"

"Yes," James nodded.

"Why was I not told then?"

"Because he was in no fit state to be seen, Harry." Dumbledore said quietly. "He was not cared for for all the time Lucius was imprisoned. He was malnourished, dehydrated and…" When James nodded he continued. "He had tried to commit suicide several times." Harry didn't react. What did it matter? So had he, several times, over the holidays. Before he acquired the mask he now wore constantly.

"I would have preferred to have been told before." Harry said finally. "If you'll excuse me, curfew is about to begin. I should be in Gryffindor tower before it is instated. Good evening." He left before anyone could speak.

He reached the tower far too quickly for his liking but he climbed in. Heads turned and, whereas an hour ago they would have looked away quickly, this time they fixed on his face, watching him warily.

"Harry?" Harry turned to see Neville, who always tried to make Harry feel included still. "Are you alright?"

Harry almost fell into an armchair, something he had not done since school returned. People weren't sure whether to be worried or not at this uncharacteristic display.

"I just had some… disturbing news." Harry told Neville.

"What, Harry?"

Harry opened his mouth but the portrait hole opened and he looked into his reflected face, which was grinning.

"I always could charm my way in here! Buttered Lips indeed. Who thought that one up?"

"Harry…" Neville gasped. "It's…"

Several members of the disbanded DA had their wands out, others following their lead quickly.

"I cannot believe that either Dumbledore or Snape allowed you in here." Harry said mildly, feeling strangely detached. Wands lowered slightly, but were still pointed at James, who was pulling himself in laboriously.

"Of course not, they're both uptight old men!" James wheezed, pulling himself upright, a cane in one hand. "I just asked Louisa the password."

"Louisa?" Hermione asked, confused.

"The portrait! Wait, don't tell me she managed to get people to forget her name again!"

"Talking about names," Ginny growled. "What's yours?"

"Uh-oh, red head alert!" James chuckled, walking carefully to a chair across from Harry and falling into it.

"You got something against red heads?" Ron growled, advancing on the man threateningly.

James glared, all trace of smile gone from his face. "The last red head I saw was my wife, and she's dead, Weasley. So no, I don't have anything against red heads. And as for your question, I'm James Potter." He looked at Harry. "Harry's dad."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "One moment." He returned after a moment and slammed his photo album on the table between them. "This is the 'dad' I grew up with, and that only the last four years. Before that I thought you were a drunken thug who died in a car accident. So before you start calling yourself my dad I'd appreciate it if I was actually given a chance to get my head around the idea." People began to edge away. James noticed, and raised an eyebrow.

"You certainly scare your housemates, Harry. Won't work on me though, I saw you in nappies." Some people giggled quietly.

"I don't care about them other than keeping them from dieing. Since I care about even the Slytherin's like that you'll forgive me if I don't collapse at that weak insult."

"Was a bit wasn't it?" James said wryly.

"Does Lupin know you're alive?" Harry said after a moment.

"Remus came to see me a few weeks ago. Hasn't left me since, except tonight. I would have gone with him, but Dumbledore asked me to talk to you tonight." The full moon shone in the room eerily.

"You know about Pettigrew and Sirius, then?"

"Yes. I know about them."

"I suppose Sirius can be cleared then?"

"Yes. Far too late."

"Yes. But you should have told someone that Pettigrew was your secret keeper. And Sirius should have stayed away from him. And he should have been given a trial. It might not have bought you and… and mum back, but it would have let Sirius off. And maybe I would have had to stay at the Dursley's, but it might have been better for me if I had someone visiting."

"Do you accept that I'm telling you the truth, Harry? That I'm your dad?" James asked quietly after a moment, looking at the photo of Harry and his mother on his first birthday. Harry was holding his mums hair and pulling on it, laughing as she attacked him in retaliation.

"Oh yes," Harry said in a voice that would not be argued with. "I know you are my father. But consider that I haven't said that word to anyone all my life. I can't accept it so easily. It would be like calling Hermione a Mudblood. It's too hard to do just yet." Harry stood suddenly. "I'm going to bed." He looked uncertainly at his father, who was flicking through the book casually, a faint, sad smile on his face. "You can… you can keep that if you like." James looked up, surprised. Harry turned and left quickly.

Hermione sat down in his seat.

"Mr Potter," she said sternly. "How do you think that conversation went?"

"Badly. He's so… so unlike either of us when we were young. He has his mothers temper, that's true."

"That conversation went better than any of us could have hoped." Hermione said, still stern, and truthful. "If that had been anyone else he would have locked himself in the dorm or left the tower, and no one could find him if he did that."

"But he was so… so angry." James sounded slightly lost.

"He wasn't cared for much, growing up. I'm not going to betray Harry, but he has problems." Ron sat on the arm of Hermione's chair and glared. "But the fact he gave you that," Ron pointed at the photo album, "And said you could keep it, shows how much he wants this to work."

"What's so special about this?" James asked, curious.

"Those are the only photo's he has of any of his family, Mr Potter." Hermione said. "And he only has them since the end of first year. They're precious to him. He has very little. His entire life comes to Hogwarts with him, and it leaves with him. Now he's given you something to do with that life. He wants you to be in it. He's grown cold over the summer. Maybe you can help him come back to us." She stood and began to send people to bed. Soon only she and James were in the common room.

"Where are you staying?"

"I'll kip on the couch for tonight." She nodded, and left him for the night.

James lay back, and took the photo album with him, flicking through it until the fire was low, and falling asleep watching his wife smiling at him, silent tears wetting his face.

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**A/N 2; Ok, the reason James switches so fast when Ron says 'You got something against red heads' is because he has just spent over a decade and a half in solitary confinement, with torture in between. Give the guy some slack, ok?**

Ok, Reviews! My fav part :-D

DoNtLetMeGetMe- Thanks!

Remusgrl01- Lol, yup, Harry isnt going to be pleased, as you will soon see :D And JAmes has a little idea about what Harrys life has been like, but not much.

Eric2- Lol! And Thanks!

Strega- Harry realised over the summer that the best defence was offence. Knock them down before they have time to register the change in you and your quids in. He hates having to alienate his friends however, and knows that they are looking out for him still, just as he is still looking out for them. And James was never obnoxious like Harry is being; he still respected authority if he was caught. Harry isn't caring though; he refuses to go to detentions, do homework, and vanishes whenever anyone wants to talk to him. James may have been a bit of a bully, but that is something Harry isnt.

julia- Glad you like it! 

FrighteningShadow- Glad you enjoy pissy!Harry because he is going to stay around for a while. Keep reading!

EternalDayDreamer- I might put something in on this account, a flashback maybe of Harry telling Ron he isnt going to be on the Quidditch team this year. Let's just say Ron was not pleased.

Kryzt- Yup, sixth year, and stay tuned to find out what happenes.

Mordacis- Going to be alot of Harry/James interaction over the next few chapters; You'll see why in chapter 3. Happily Harry isnt going to loose his snarky attitude any time soon, though it will tone down slightly for a while.

SeekerGirl17- Thanks and here you go!


	3. Damnable Dumbledore

**James Potter, My Father**

**Disclaimer; I own nothing to do with Harry Potter.**

**A/N 1; Welcome, one and all. In commeration to Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, which I just finished reading with a time of 6 hours 20 minutes I am posting many a new chapter and story. Here is this one, andI shall probably be doing one for book seven soon. To those who have not read HBP in it's entireity, go do so before reading fan fiction ;) To those who have, I hope you enjoyed it as much as me, up to and including the ending. For those who read my other fic, Naked Quidditch Match 2, it has been removed from THIS SITE but can be found at my Yahoo Group, which is on my bio page.**

**Well, on with the show :D**

**Chapter 3**

That was how Harry found him at five the next morning. He stood in the doorway to the common room and watched his father. The man was older than in the photo's of course, but Harry could see little to say he had been held captive for most of his life. He was slimmer than he should be, and he used the cane to move around, but other than that the man seemed healthy. Harry looked at the open picture book, and then away.

Why had he given it to the man? His only connection with either of his parents for all his life, and now he'd given it away. Harry sighed and settled into a chair opposite the man, taking out the tiny battered notebook.

September 13th, 1996

Attack on Stonehouse

6 dead

Anna Arbecks, 24, Avada Kedavra

Bobby Arbecks, 1, Avada Kedavra

Catherine Cookson (Half-Blood), 52, Avada Kedavra

Kurt Jones, 45, Suffocation

Harriett Skinner, 15, Ava

"What are you doing?" Harry jolted and looked up. James was staring at him. Or rather, at the notebook he was writing in. Harry went to snap it shut, then remembered the ink would still be wet. Cursing inwardly he pulled the book towards him, not letting the ink run.

"Homework." Harry lied.

"First time for everything I suppose, but that didn't look like potion ingredients to me."

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

"Why."

"Because that is not healthy. If you keep on reflecting on how many have died then you wont ever live."

"Who says I'm going to live?"

"Of course you're going to live," James waved his hand dismissively. Harry narrowed his eyes.

"Do you know about the prophecy?"

James looked at him, puzzled. "Prophecy?"

"Ask Dumbledore. It's…" Harry laughed and packed up his stuff. "It's not my place to tell you," he finished with a sarcastic smile.

"Harry." Harry stopped half way across the common room. "Why are you angry with me?"

Harry thought for a moment.

"I'm not angry with you… It's…" he turned to face the man. His face was struggling to keep his stolid mask and James could see that easily. "It's just I have a war to win. And I don't want to become attached to one more body. If we win, maybe then we can get to know each other."

"And if we don't win?"

Harry bit his lip and looked away. "Then our getting to know each other will be impossible."

"Why?"

"I'll be dead." Harry said calmly.

"Don't be ridiculous! Harry you seem to think that the entire war relies on you! You're sixteen for Merlin's sake!"

"It does rely on me." Harry said, his foot on the bottom stair to the boys dorms. "Like I said, ask Dumbledore about the prophecy." He disappeared.

"Dumbledore!" James snarled as he stumbled through the door to the man's office. "What's all this about a prophecy that makes my son think he's the one who the war is fixed upon? He sounds like he thinks he'd the only one who can defeat Voldemort!"

"He is." James gaped.

"Tell a man gently why don't you?" He muttered after a moment. "I guess that's the prophecy he spoke of?"

"Indeed." Dumbledore told him it, and James seemed to sink with each word.

"Why did you never tell us?" he asked finally.

"Because I hoped to keep you safe. I am sorry, James." James nodded.

"Merlin, what a thing for a kid to know. My kid…" James choked slightly. "My boy!" he slammed his fist on the table. "Why, Dumbledore?"

"I do not know, James. Prophecy's are, as you know, select."

"Select my arse." James muttered.

"How is Harry?"

"He's keeping a death tally." James said bluntly. "How do you think he is?"

"I was afraid of that." Dumbledore said sadly. "It may be you were returned to us at the perfect moment. It may not be too late to help Harry. How would you feel to taking Harry out of school for a week? Give him a taste of what a father is supposed to be like?"

James smiled weakly. "That sounds like a great idea." He replied.

"Harry," Ron hissed. Harry looked up, his mask firmly in place. "You're dad's there," Ron pointed. Around the hall heads were already turned to the man. Harry scowled and put his knife and fork down, getting up and going over to where his father was lounging and eating an apple.

"Hello," James said as he came closer.

"As you got that from the kitchens why couldn't you eat it there?"

"I came to see you but got hungry on the way. Did you know the head house elf here was here in my years? He was so pleased to see me." James grinned evilly. "He gave me an apple and then they chased me out with their brooms."

"And you came to see me why?"

"Do I need a reason to come visit my son?"

"Yes."

"Alright, I give. Pack your bags Harry me lad, you and I are going on a little trip."

"What?" Harry asked, startled.

"I'm taking you out of school for a week. You and I are going to get to know each other better. Dumbledore's orders." The man laughed slightly.

Harry scowled. "Thank you but no. I have classes."

"It's the beginning of the year, nothing important really. And anyway, you need a break."

"No."

James narrowed his eyes. "Harry, you are coming with me for a week. There is no 'no' about it. Go on Harry, go pack some clothes. It's only a week, no need to look like the world has ended."

"And if it does while we're away I place the blame entirely on your shoulders," Harry snarled as he stormed past.

"Ahhhh," James sighed with a grin. "Teenage Tantrums. Don't you just love them." He turned and followed Harry, giving the boy time to have started to pack by the time he got to the tower.

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**A/N2 Hope you enjoyed this, next chapter out soon.**

DoNtLetMeGetMe-Sorry it's been so long, and don't worry, the next one will be out soon :D

Spiorad- Yes he will tone down a little, but he won't get all 'Dad! Dad! look, Quidditch on TV!' He will be warily tolerant of James, while still keeping the attitude. Just wait till you see chapter 10 or so though... >:-D  
Ahhhh, you noticed that did you :-) I might do a little ficlet on how James got out of the office, away from Dumbledore and Snape, but basically he bantered with Snape, Snape leaps at James, James runs (hobbles) off laughing. Dumbledore eats Lemon Drops and smiles Omnipotently.

krissygurl- You ask, I deliever

Strega - True, he could hex everyone in the room and still keep friends, but they would just try harder to make friends with him. If you act like Harry does by the time they realise what you've done it's already too late to get back. Also remember, James has no idea how Harry was raised. He thought Harry was sent to the Dursleys who got used to him being around. He doesn't realise that they have abused him (Mentally and emotionally.) And James would like to know how to get his son back too. He was moaning at me last night about how awkward Harry was being. I told him to shut up or I'd get Harry kidnapped by Death Eaters.

Remusgrl01- Harry is slowly loosening up... oh, wait, you haven't read that chappy yet. Don't worry, I'll get them out soon.

Day of Gryffindor- Will do, thanks :D

Mordacis- People can never take up enough of my time in reviews; I love getting them :D I like The Fat Lady getting a name too, and it just seemed to fit in for her. The fact she doesn't like people knowing her name is amusing too, if you ask me. Yes, he has tried, but as we'll see later on, he was not successful for akey reason. Well, it will be key ifI use it. See, I know where this fic is going... I just don't know how to get there lol :D

SeekerGirl17- Muchos Harry/James interaction coming up and updates will be quicker :D

sesshyluver03- Thanks and will do :D

elvengoddess696- Thanks to you too, and they will be coming quicker now,I promise

bookxluver- Thanks, will do :D

Kes - I've seen far too many of those kinds of stories too, and many of them with stupid story lines and plots. Thanks for the review, hope you keep reading :D

Thea Martina- I like them too, and I have never seen one like this either. I thought I needed to fill the market out a bit more, so to speak. Hope you keep reading :D


	4. Stubborn Skeeter

**James Potter, My Father**

**A/N1 - Well here we are, another chapter as promised. Later than I wanted but I've been at my boyfriends over the last few days so I haven't had a chance to do anything. I'm gonna write some more tonight, but what I really want to do at the moment is write a Severitus _possibly_ for after HBP, but I think it will have to be post-HBP (Post is before, isn't it? I always get it wrong lol). Also, what are peoples views on this being slash? I'm not sure who yet, James is definatly straight, but I want to get Harry with someone his dad might disapprove of. I.e, a male, or a Slytherin, or both. Ah well, here's that chapter, and for those who HAVE finished HBP... I WANT THE NEXT BOOK NOW!

* * *

****Chapter 4**

**Stubborn Skeeter**

Harry was lying on his bed when James came in. He didn't look up, but continued to write in his notebook.

"I thought I told you to pack?"

"I am packed. It's all in my trunk."

"What? All in here?" James looked at the small trunk at the bottom of Harry's bed.

"Yes."

"That thing isn't big enough to put a dog in, let alone all your stuff."

Harry looked up. "What, do you think I have enough to fit in one of the bigger trunks? Has no one told you about my home life?"

"No, why don't you?" James said as he sat on the bed, wincing slightly at the ache in his leg.

"All that is in that trunk is what I have received since returning to the magical world. Five Weasley jumpers, one invisibility cloak, a map, a sneak-o-scope, a flute, a Snitch from my first Quidditch game, a cauldron, potion supplies, school books for this year, three sets of wizard robes, plain, one set of dress robes which still fit me from fourth year, clothing and a broom." Harry did not elaborate.

"All in there?"

"Yes. I don't have much."

"Why not?"

"The Dursley's weren't exactly happy that I was foisted on them."

"Are you ready to go?" James asked after an awkward moment. Harry nodded, closing his notebook carefully and tucking it in his pocket.

"Robes or Muggle clothes?" Harry asked as he got off the bed.

"Muggle clothes. We're going to a Muggle town." Harry pulled open his trunk. Even though it held his entire life in it, it was pitifully empty, only just half full. He pulled out some of his cousins clothes and went into the bathroom. He returned and ignored the shocked look James was giving him.

"Harry?" Harry looked at him mutely. "Why are your clothes like that?"

"They're all the Dursley's would give me." He replied blandly, putting his robes in the trunk and slamming the lid down before the Snitch escaped. "They're Dudley's cast offs. Are we going now?" James could tell Harry did not want to talk about this.

"Yes, we're going now. We'll talk more later however." He warned. Harry just glared and levitated his trunk after him. He stormed through the common room, heads turning as he passed. James followed easily, until the girl from last night stopped him again.

"Well you must be doing something right, Mr Potter." She said with an amused expression. "Harry hasn't slammed a door at all this year, and I've not seen him look that angry with anyone since Dumbledore talked to him last year. Good luck for this week sir." She suddenly looked serious and leant in. "Try and help him?" she whispered pleadingly. James smiled at her comfortingly and gave her a quick hug. She reminded him of Lily, and had a bookish air about her that Lily had radiated as a child.

Harry was waiting for him outside the portrait hole, suffering Louisa telling him about his fathers younger days. James smiled charmingly at the woman and then led Harry to Dumbledore's office. They didn't stop, but used the Floo with the headmaster's permission.

"Jackson Creak!" James called as he went through with Harry's trunk. Shortly later Harry came out of the Floo, landing painfully on his backside. James hauled him up with a laugh, ignoring the embarrassed flush on Harry's face. "Come on Harry, let's get to the house." He said with a smile.

Harry looked about him in mild confusion. They seemed to be in a shallow cave, a campfire seemingly the means of how they had got here.

"It's a public Floo," James said at his frown, leading the way out of the house. "It's Muggle repelling, and they pay no mind as to who goes in or out. The house isn't on the Floo at the moment; I haven't had time to hook us up to it. The house is the other side of town. Godric's Hold it's called. Been in the family for years."

"Great." Harry said blandly. It could have meant anything. James kept up a quiet banter throughout the 'Town'. In fact it was a large village, and they passed through it within ten minutes. Harry ignored most of it, keeping his eyes open for Death Eaters, Order members set to guard him, or them, and signs of other wizards. He saw five Order members, two reporters and one Ministry official following them. He followed James silently, keeping his eyes on each of the followers at once.

Out of town there were fewer places to hide. Harry watched as an Order member and a reporter got into a mild scuffle as they tried to duck into the same hiding place. The other reporter didn't bother to hide. The others were hidden sufficiently to a casual observer. One not used to people following him.

"That woman's been following us from town," James whispered to Harry as he turned and grinned at his son, his eyes drifting to the reporter. Despite the cane James was agile on his feet.

Harry smirked mirthlessly. "That's Rita Skeeter. You don't want to talk to her. Certainly not with a quick quotes quill. She's a reporter," he added at James' look. "We lost another and an escort just out of town; something of a dispute over a tree. Two others are to the left behind us, the other two in front, one on each side of the road. The Ministry tail is on the right behind us."

"Escort? Ministry?" James looked confused. Harry sighed and dropped his trunk heavily.

He raised his voice, not feeling the need to keep quiet, and called to the reporter. "Miss Skeeter?"

"Harry! I was wondering if I might have a word?"

"Miss Skeeter I am in the middle of a war here. I've got a big enough target on my head as it is. I do not need my location broadcast to every Death Eater and Dark Lord around. So no, you may not have a word, you may have six. Fuck off, good day to you. Tonks, Dayford, Kingsford and the other Order member can fuck off too. Ministry Personnel either reveal who you are and why you are following us or be prepared to come under defensive fire. That goes for you too, Miss Skeeter, if you do not leave. Now."

James leant on his cane as Harry sat on his trunk wearily. He watched as his son argued with a camouflage haired woman and the ministry employee. Or rather, those two argued and Harry started to play with his wand. James got the impression the woman had a lot more brain cells. She grinned at Harry and scarpered, dragging her companions with her. The Ministry DLA, Department of Law Enforcement, quickly followed her, almost running, holding his hat tightly to avoid loosing it.

Harry turned back to James. "Alright," he sighed. "We can go on now. The ministry wanted proof of where we were going, and Tonks realised that I'd probably know much sooner than they would if someone was following us." He picked up his trunk and started up the road again. James followed quietly, his cane tapping the floor in an even rhythm as he watched his son move wearily on.

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**A/N2- My fav bit peeps:D**

Iceman - Your right. I meant all knowing, but I got the Omni-whatsit wrong. Anyone know which one it is for All knowing?

Spiorad- Eventually Harry and James will come to like each other, but it is going to be slow. At the end of the week something BIG is going to happen that will make it even harder for the two of them...  
Thanks for the praise on my writing. sometimes I read what I write and think... Thats bad. Luckily I'm not the kind of person that gets rid of anything that she doesn't like. I just leave it and go back to where it all went wrong. SometimesI get whole new ideas from doing that lol

PantherGuide- He isn't going to _bow_ to them as such. He's going to do what James tells him because, somewhere inside him, he knows he should obey his father. It's the kind of thing imprinted on any child, even one bought up like Harry. He's angry at Dumbledore, but he will do what he has to to kill Voldemort. As for Death Eater Attacks... (see above :-)

RainingInsanity- **MAY BE HBP SPOILERS -**Well, I _may_incorporate the Horcrux, but only one of them, as though What-zit-face only made one, or two if you count the one destroyed, but that will be all. The other one, however, will mean dreadful concequences...


	5. House Hold Home

**James Potter, My Father**

**A/N1 - Evening peeps, hope you all enjoyed my last chapter. I got eleven reviews (ELEVEN!) in two days, so I thought I'd post this now. The chapters WILL slow down soon; I've only got up to 7 written, and I have had Writers Block something cronic. I know whereI want to go, but not how to write ANYTHING! I started another thing earlier, to get me in the mood, and it has worked. Will be posting that soonish too. **

**Well, enjoy!**

**

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****Chapter 5**

**House Hold Home**

"Here we go!" James exclaimed as he threw the doors open and swept into the Entrance Hall to the large manor. Harry followed.

The room was airy and light. Two staircases led from the floor to an upper landing. On each wall double doors led off, including one set in the staircase. Dainty chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and the entire hall looked beautiful and elegant.

James gave him a tour. The drawing room was a beautiful dark wood and red, book cases lining the walls. It was a cosy room. The official dining room was large and imposing, easily seating 100 people. It was lined with portraits that all welcomed James by name. The ball room was a room Harry felt he could grow to like.

There was a balcony that ran all around the hall, accessible by a large ornate staircase at the far end of the room. The walls were covered in unmoving pictures, painted onto the walls themselves, depicting various scenes. Harry paused for a long moment over a child sitting in his mothers lap, smiling up at her as she read to him. He only paused a moment however, and James noticed it. Harry didn't even look at the boy being lifted onto his father's shoulders at a Quidditch game, the boy laughing and clutching at his fathers hair. Harry recognised the faces all too easily, and knew this was the Potter family picture album. Or hopes album. Harry knew he never went to Quidditch like that with his father. The boy in the picture looked to be around five.

There was lots of blank space, and not all the pictures were happy. Harry wondered how they managed to get so much of each persons life in this room. There must be a picture for every party, every birth, every fight and death and memorable occasion. How did it all fit? He almost laughed. How did he think it all fit? It was, after all, a magical house.

"We each update our lives as we go through them," James whispered, putting a hand over the two combined ones that were himself and Lily on their wedding day. Harry came closer. "I'll be adding my time in the Malfoy's care over the next few days. You can add what's happened in your life too. Each person has a different style. As you paint more you will find your style becomes more firm and under your control."

"I've never painted anything in my life." Harry said blankly, turning away. James smiled slightly, looking at the tiny candle Lily had drawn one night when he had been lost on an Order mission. 'To guide you home,' she had said. It had guided him home, and that night they had created the boy walking away from him.

"You'll find your own way." he whispered.

The library was bigger than the one at Hogwarts and Harry remarked that Hermione would like to get hold of the key to this room. "You can invite your friends over during the weekend, Harry, if you want." James offered. "There is more than enough room." Harry never answered, merely looking through the doors that led off the room. Several private studies. He recognised the one his father had claimed. One door was locked. Harry frowned and turned to James.

"Your mums study." He said quietly. Harry let go of the handle as through it burned, staring at the door as though it was about to attack him. He followed James out of the library quickly.

Harry was shown the less formal areas of the house after that, including the kitchens (including a family of house elves), the family dining room, the sitting room, the parlour room and the Quidditch pitch. Harry looked at the indoor pitch with speculative eyes, taking in the height, which went to the top of the house, and the perfect size. The hoops shone as though just polished, and the entire room seemed to be made of precious metals and stones. James went to a wall and pressed something.

Harry felt something settle in his stomach and then the walls seemed to fold back on themselves. Behind them shone trophy after trophy, medals and awards and brooms from ancient history.

"Every Potter, right back to the first who lived here, was fond of Quidditch. Some were famous players, others never had the talent. But each would place their broom, trophies and anything else to do with Quidditch in here. Your mum and I had one made for you one day." Harry looked at the empty case. His fathers held medals from each year his team had won Quidditch, and a Quaffle sat proudly under his broom, showing the position he favoured. It was inscribed with the names of all the people he had ever played with in the Gryffindor team, and a picture of the team waved at Harry as he looked. "Maybe one day you'll put your medals in here…?" James sounded wistful. Harry licked his lips, almost… nervous.

"Why does my stomach feel heavy?" Harry asked, to break the silence.

"Anti flying charm. Any brooms will be bought safely to earth and then the walls will open. All balls return to their box too. Good way to end a game for dinner, as my mum used to say."

"Your mum?" Harry asked, startled. Then he hit himself. Of course James had parents, at some time. Harry had never really thought about it in context to himself. He assumed he must have had grandparents at some point.

"My parents died not long after you were born. Lily's died during the OWL's. I never met them."

"How… did they die?" Harry asked softly, looking at a picture of what had to be his grandfather and grandmother with a boy that looked like him, looking proudly at each other, the ecstatic boy who was waving a signed Quaffle, and the camera. They looked kind, and his grandfather ruffled James' hair affectionately. Harry scowled and looked away, back at the empty cabinet.

"They were killed."

"Death Eaters?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry." Harry said quietly, realising he actually meant it.

"I'm sorry too. They would have loved to have taken you in when… that Halloween. They would have loved to watch you grow up too. I remember dad said you'd be a Beater, the way you ran around. Just like a Bludger, he used to say. He was a Beater, as was my granddad. First Seeker in seven generations, you are."

There were bedrooms still to see, and it was getting late. They had skipped lunch (the house elves had refused to let them leave without eating something however), and it was nearly time for dinner. James showed Harry the guest wing, on the right of the stairs, and the upper library, which had a ladder to the lower floors.

"This was our room, once my parents died," James said, showing Harry through another door.

Whereas the guest rooms had been large, and luxurious to Harry's mind, the master suite was heaven. The sheets were all silk, the carpet deep and fuzzy enough to sink into, a small sitting area and dressing room made the room look like a palace. Harry followed James to the bathroom, which had a tub similar to the prefect one at Hogwarts, then to another door.

"This was your nursery, for a little while. Until we went to the Hollow." The room was a child's toyshop. A crib sat at one end, and all across the walls toys were stacked up neatly, teddies, dolls, wooden horses and chew toys. Harry stepped into the room carefully, a sense of slight familiarity washing over him. A rocking horse stood in a corner, easily large enough for him to still ride, and he ran his hand over its mane, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to catch the laugher he could just hear. It escaped him however. He shook his head and trailed his hand over the shelves, wondering if he should remember any of this. Only the horse had incited anything thus far.

He looked in the crib last. A dusty bear sat at the top, looking like it hadn't been moved in a while. Harry rested his cheek on his arms, which rested on the side of the crib, and reached out a hand to stroke the bear gently. He remembered… someone attacking him with it, and him laughing. He blinked, snatching his hand back slightly.

"That was yours." James said quietly. "You cried for days when we moved to the Hollow, because we didn't bring it with us." Harry slowly took his hand away and stood up.

He left the room without a backward glance at the bedraggled teddy.

James promised to show Harry his room after dinner. They ate quietly, Harry starting to feel exhausted and wanting a bath. He stifled a yawn, barely, and James smiled slightly.

"Come on, one more room to see." James laughed, leading Harry back upstairs. Harry loved the way the stairs would move, like an escalator, whenever his father stepped on them. Harry enjoyed the free ride and followed his father to the room that would be his.

"It'll be a bit bare for now, until you decorate how you want and unpack and stuff," James warned. "I think it's in cream at the moment, but if you ask the house elves they'll paint it for you." Harry nodded, not showing any emotion.

Moments later he had to lock his jaw to continue to show a blank face. He failed somewhat and James smiled as Harry stood in the middle of the room and turned slowly to take in the whole of it.

It was in cream, from the walls to the carpet. His bed was a slightly darker shade, as were the chairs that were arranged before the fire. Harry swallowed lightly. His bed was a king size, if not bigger, and he knew he would have a hard time sleeping. He wasn't _used_ to big beds!

His bathroom was similar to his fathers, slightly smaller, but no less comfortable.

At some point his father disappeared, and Harry pulled his clothes off and had a quick shower before dressing in his boxers and climbing into the bed. He was surprised at how quick he fell asleep, sinking into the bed as though it was pure 'sinkness', and he would have been shocked to realise that his father returned later to watch him as he slept, and let silent tears fall down his face as Harry screamed through his visions, unable to wake and find peace from the torture he saw within his mind.

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**A/N2 - before people ask; James couldn't wake Harry, and he did try. So he sat there, unable to do anything, remembering the kinds of thing he had been through, and almost knowing what Harrywas seeing. He has been told about the visions Harry gets, so he sort of knows what happens. Not quite though.**

**!REVIEWS!**

I-Shave-Clowns- I'm not sure. I might split this off at one point, making a Slash one and a 'regular' one, for those who don't like Slash. I was aiming this to be slash in the end anyway, because of what Harry has been through and will go through. I know how to deal with that better in slash than het, so I don't know lol.

RainingInsanity- You saw mistakes? where, where! oh my giddy aunt,I _can't _have made a mistake! Please, review again and let me know so I can go back and fix it! I will put in a discription of (you know what), and there would be less than in HBP lol. Just two or three.

Spiorad- Lol, I liked Harry dealing with them too. It was only because James noticed them he did anything though, he just didn't see the point before. Deep down he wanted to reassure his father they weren't in danger, even if he didn't realise it himself.  
I didn't want the slash just to piss James off, see my respons to I-Shave-Clowns, and I have left tiny clues as to why this might be slash. sneeze and you'll miss them though lol. Slytherin might be a dead cert though, but it will be an OC. I just can't stand any of the ones we've met so far lol. Either that or Harry won't get with anyone lol. I got to say I haven't read a JCB (James comes back) fic with Harry pissing James off by being gay, but then I've read fewer than I realised lol.  
Anyway, keep reading, this version at least won't be slash, but there will most likely be one in the future.

Chiara Crawford- Thank you, I will. Keep reading!

Strega - James is impressed, but he is also annoyed that his son should have to do that. He knows Harry is edgywith good reason, but he is _really_ overprotective of his son, as you shall see in the next chapter. I can't blame Harry either, he is independent, he has been forced to be independent all his life. And I'll drink to that! 'Good Luck, Jamie-me-boy! You'll Need It!'

Iceman - Thank you, and he was only smilingomnisciently, because he knew what James and Snape were like, and he knew what James was trying to do etc lol.

Kira6- ARGH! Lol, here you go!

Lauren - Wont do, Will do, Me too, Thank you!

Mordacis- Lol, it was two words to begin with, but I toned it down to be more, 'don't mess with me' rather than 'Stroppy teenager, ignore'Foisted is an _excellent_ word, I find I use it more and more lol. James really is shell shocked, isnt he? He hasn't a clue what Petunia and Vernon were like to Harry. He knew Lily and Petunia didn't get along, but he thought it was because Petunia was mildly jealous. He didnt realise it was full blown hatred. Rita is good, if annoying. I wonder when we'll see her again... ;-)

The Halliwell's little Angel- Skipping the fancy words, and sticking to those people can understand and like to read, Thanks loads, here's the new chappy, Keep reading! Loved the review, btw lol. Reallysassy :P


	6. Past Painting

**James Potter, My Father**

**A/N 1 - 14! 14! I nearly had a heart attack! I love reviews :D Not a lot to say today, I'm a bit tired too. Chapter 8 is in progress, I can't seem to get it right, but I need to write it before I write what comes next else it wont get written lol. Not a lot happenes in this one, but it sets the scenes a bit...**

**Ok, Warning. Chapter... 10, I think, will have MENTIONS of violence, as will chapters after that. I say not why, but you will see. I will try to keep it 'mentions', but if there is any violent scenes shown then I will put a mention at the beginning of the chapter. I won't put markers around them, because I think that inturrupts the flow of the story, but I will try and make sure people are warned before hand.**

**Well, enjoy!**

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Chapter 6 **

**Past Painting**

**Chapter 6**

Next morning Harry had breakfast alone before heading to the library. James found him there around ten, reading through a stack of books, turning the pages quicker than readable.

"Harry?" Harry looked up momentarily before returning to his book. "How can you read that fast?"

"Photographic memory charm I found at the end of last term." Harry said idly. "It sorts out what is useful information and what is redundant, and I learn it before I turn the page."

"Won't that be illegal?" James asked, sitting across from Harry. "What with you still needing to take your exams?"

Harry looked at him, with something almost akin to sadness on his face. "At the moment I have more to worry about than exams…" he licked his lips and went on. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I managed this far in my life. I'm trying to do my best to live beyond my seventeenth birthday. People just seem to want to interrupt that. I know they think I'll have years to beat Voldemort, but I don't want to wait years. I see people die every night, and I don't want anymore people to die than is necessary."

"No one does, Harry. Is there no way to block the dreams?"

"Not that I've found." Harry said blandly. "I even considered cutting the scar off, but I decided that's just an outer mark for something that is connected with my magic. Short of rendering me a squib I can't think of anything."

They sat in silence for a while, the only noise the fast turning of pages from Harry.

"Have you decided what you want to call me yet?" James suddenly asked.

Harry looked up, uncertain, wary. "What?"

"I've been in your life three days nearly now and you still haven't called me anything. You said the first night that it would be like calling your friend a mudblood, calling me father. Is that still how you feel?"

Harry licked his lips, then scowled. "Look, it's not that I don't believe you, I do. I just… I never had anyone to call dad. Never had anyone I wanted to, except maybe Sirius. But I changed since then. When… when Sirius died I realised that having people close to me meant it was easier to get hurt. Now I'm only in this war for my own sanity. It's enough of a motive to make me want to finish the war quickly, trust me."

"But what about the people who love you?" James asked quietly. Harry got the feeling he didn't just mean himself.

"I know I'm hurting people." Harry admitted, looking through the books before him again, but slower. "But I don't want anyone to die. And I don't want people to die because they know me."

"They're prepared to take that risk, Harry." his father began but Harry slammed the book shut and stood, levitating the stack with him.

"I don't want them to because it hurts me when I see people I love die!" Harry yelled. "Call me selfish but I won't let them die!"

"What about me?" James said, standing and glaring down at his son. "Should I forbid you to fight? Should I try and hide you from the dangers? Should I forbid you to read those books, forbid you to prepare yourself to fight Voldemort? Forbid you to fight Voldemort at all!"

Harry licked his lips and paled. "You wouldn't?" he whispered, looking at his father with wide, fearful eyes.

"I might!" James shouted. "I don't want to think my son has fought Voldemort almost every year since he started school, and I don't want to think he might have to do it again. I could lock you up in your room until Voldemort has been subdued and then we'd find out the stupid prophecy was wrong!"

Harry looked at James in desperation. "You can't do that," he whispered, deadly afraid that his father might. "You can't do that to me."

"I can!" James stated, glaring at his tiny son. Was he really sixteen? He looked no bigger than a thirteen year old.

Harry ran out of the room, books trailing after him. James collapsed in his chair and fought against hitting something.

He didn't want Harry to fight Voldemort. He knew if Harry did there was the possibility of Harry dieing, despite his track record. But he knew what prophecy's were, and if it said only Harry could win…

Then only Harry could win against Voldemort.

Harry looked down from his perch an hour later and saw his father coming into the ball room slowly, painting material following him slowly. He settled next to the picture of him, Lily and baby Harry running from the Hold to the Hollow and took up a brush. Slowly he began to sketch what had happened next. The betrayal of Wormtail, the Dark Mark above the Hollow, his Lily dead, him being captured, Harry with his scar crying in the garden next to his dead mother. Time passing within a cell under Malfoy Manor. Rescue, a long time recovering with his best friend at his side. Then the meeting with Harry.

James paid a lot more attention to this person. Where as the others had been quick outlines to be continued with in more detail later, James seemed to have decided to start on this one properly.

Harry watched as his face as seen by James came into view. The shock when he saw his father, each argument and discussion they had had at Hogwarts. Behind each face Harry saw another, showing what was really going on behind his mask.

When James put his brush down finally and looked through what he had painted.

"So that's what you were feeling." He whispered, putting his hand against Harry's face in the picture where Harry was giving him his photo album. Harry looked and saw his 'second' face was licking its lips, swallowing and looking at James with hopeful eyes. "Why did you hide it? What are you afraid of?"

'I'm afraid you'll leave me again.' Harry thought to himself, resting against the railing and wrapping his hands around the metal bars for support. 'I'm afraid of getting hurt.'

He watched James pack up the paints and leave. Slowly the unfinished painting faded and the walls shifted until they were full of pictures from other Potters, way back.

Harry crept down and looked at the walls. He had been mistaken before, he realised. The pictures did move, or, rather, they changed to show the passage of time. He didn't think them sentiment like portraits, but they knew he was watching, and adjusted accordingly. With a ripple the picture before him became a mirror. He took a step back startled.

His reflection smiled and put a finger to his lips. Harry almost copied, unsure, but the reflection was moving away, out of his sight it seemed, and he moved to keep it in view. The mirror, or window, or whatever it was seemed fixed on him, and his mirror image walked out of it if he stopped. Harry jogged almost to keep up, while the reflection seemed to be walking happily.

Harry swore he didn't walk like that.

It stopped and Harry did so also. His reflection seemed to be looking in the picture next to him. Harry looked also. For a moment it seemed full of colour, but it faded until a blank wall was all that remained. A quick look told him his reflection was still watching so he did, and as he watched the blank wall faint lines seemed to appear. Harry watched the writing in shock.

_Paint. Tell your story. Let us in._

Harry took the pencil from his reflection without thinking, and then turned to thank him.

The mirror was gone, leaving Harry with blank walls all around.

'From the beginning,' he thought, pressing the pencil to the wall. 'From the beginning.'

Harry took to watching James. At meals he watched how he ate, and subconsciously his table manners improved. He watched how he played with his lips as he read, not realising he did the same. He watched how he flew once, then ran to his room, hiding under the bed, clutching what remained of his Nimbus 2000 and his Firebolt.

He had quit Quidditch. Ron had been furious, but that made it easier, at first, to get away from his friends. Then they had realised what he was doing.

But seeing his father flying, moving gracefully without the aid of a crutch… James had seemed happy in a way Harry realised was unique to flying. Instead of making him want to get on his broom it had made him more certain he wouldn't; he didn't deserve leisure time until this was all over. If ever.

But late that night he dragged his trunk down to the Quidditch pitch and pressed the spot James had. The heavy feeling returned and the cabinets appeared. He went to the empty one, opening it silently.

He reverently placed his Nimbus into it, settling it delicately into the padded area that appeared for it. Next he put his Firebolt on the hooks that appeared, then he put every medal and the trophy from his third year into the case. He realised, except for the first match last year, he hadn't played Quidditch since third year. Fourth it had been cancelled and after the fight he had been banned for the rest of fifth year.

Hogwarts had never felt like home after Umbridge had come to it. Mad, crazy Death Eaters he could handle, but that woman had made the refuge of Hogwarts into a prison, and destroyed it forever for Harry. Now he found the place suffocating and full of bad memories.

When all his Quidditch stuff was in the case he shut the glass door. It shimmered for a moment before locking. Harry turned to go and the room dimmed as he went, the lights flicking off as he shut the door.

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**A/N 2 - Before people ask; Harry thinks he has no time for fun until he kills Voldemort. Maybe James can persuade him otherwise... Again, Harry is subconciously submitting to his father, copying his eating habits etc. James talks about forbidding Harry because he is terrified he will loose his only family.**

**Reviews!**

Spiorad- Harry isn't sure if he is allowed to think about his mother infront of James. He hasn't a clue as to what James is thinking about his mother right now. As for that line, I sometimes find a line in my head that is just _right_. It comes from nowhere, but it is a perfect line. This is my fav line too.  
I know what you mean. Don't worry, loads of people don't like reading slash. I remember when I first started I was like 'ergh' but I kinda like it now. It can be far fluffyer than het. Don't worry, no slash in this version. As you say, Harry doesn't need to be in a relationship. Actually, that might work better with where I am planning to take this.  
And you could never annoy me! How dare you think it! I see this review that is seventeen pages long with twelve footnotes and references to many obscure books and I think... YES! LONG REVIEW :D:D:D Runs madly around, hits wall, falls down. Random item drops from high place, waking her up to read the lush review

I-Shave-Clowns- Lol, I know what you mean about logging in ;-) Over the block mostly, I'm writing again at least lol. This one won't be slash, but I will write it eventually, once this is finished. Will post more soon!

The Halliwell's little Angel- Thanks! Glad you think I'm getting better :D

Sondi Baker - Thanks for the offer, but I think I'll carry on like this. Maybe once I'm finished I'll ask someone to go over it and repost the chapters, but not yet. I want to keep them coming quickly, and I post spontaniously, so it would slow down posting. Glad you like this, hope you continue to read!

lulu - lol, sorry for the not-quite-cliffie lol. you'll probably hate me for this chapter as well then, lol. More protective James here, so yum it up :D

Strega - James isn't patient; He's stuborn lol.. oh wait, you said that too... ignore me, I read the beginning before the end lol. But seriously, he really does deserve a medal doesnt he lol. Glad you like the house, I just thought, 'It is a magical house that might decende from Merlin, so they must be proud. they're richer than the Malfoys, but nowhere near as posh, so make it comfortable, while able to entertain at ease' lol. If you look careful, when I am writing from Harry's point of view, he _is_ thinking of James as his father. It's subconcious though, so he hasn't really noticed it himself yet.  
Not against Snape, not yet I'm afraid, but that will come. Oh dear, I'm such a tease arent I :P I agree, no one stands up for Harry except Sirius, sometimes. And we all know what happened there...

RainingInsanity - I went and looked and some of them are THISSITES fault. They do that sometimes, and I miss them when I proof read. It can be annoying I know, but if there are any really bad ones do let me know and I'll repost the chapter.

jaryli - Thanks, here you go, no more waiting!

Lauren - If you thought that was sad then look at this. The chapter when Harry and James 'Talk' (not yet) is going to be sad too, I think. Or angry. I haven't planned it in detail yet. Keep reading!

Lady Gallatea Ravenclaw- Harry/Ginny is how it _should _be, but I don't know for this. Glad you like my character portrail. Hope you keep reading!

Silver Warrior-Thank you, Thank you

Mordacis- Lol, sorry for the Jedi imagry there, didn't mean it. I think James was thinking more about Harry's style of drawing, but deeper down he was thinking about Harry's life. The Candle is my favorite bit yet, just that line is so... mmm!  
I agree, I do sometimes have a way with words lol. Might have to put more in here, if people like them so much lol!

Lolly O'Neill- Do you know, I don't think I have either. It is a very low market. In fact, if you see any good 'James come's back' fics let me know, I really would like to see some more.

vaguely amused - Soon, there will be more interaction. Chapter 7 there is Harry telling James about his 'girls', and 8 (not written yet so don't hold me to this) will have them having a heart-to-heart. Hope you keep reading!

THX)


	7. Madam Mad

**James Potter, My Father**

**A/N 1 - Huzza! Here's the new chappy. You wouldnt have it tonight except I got logged out of my WoW account and couldnt be bothered to go back in lol, (Yes, I do play World of Warcraft, if anyone plays on the Runetotem European Server add Artemius to your friends; Thats my main at the mo). I started Chapter 10 the other day, only a paragraph but it sets the scene remarkably well I think. Nine needs to be finished, and eight is playing up at the moment, so that might take a little longer.**

**WARNING! Chapter 10 will have MENTIONS of violence, as will chapters after that. If there is any violent scenes shown then I will put a mention at the beginning of the chapter. I won't put markers around them, because I think that inturrupts the flow of the story, but I will try and make sure people are warned before hand.**

**Well, enjoy!**

**

* * *

Chapter 7 **

**Madam Mad**

Next day James was waiting when he came down to breakfast. He was flicking through the Daily Prophet and eating bacon.

"I'm taking you shopping today," James said after Harry had started to eat. Harry looked up in shock.

"What?"

"We are going shopping in Diagon Alley. You need new clothes, I need new clothes, you need a new school trunk, glasses, shoes… hell, we practically need to buy everything you own all over again. Except your broom; Remus told me about that, and I must say it does look good in the case. Can't tell until you're actually on it of course."

"I don't want to go." Harry said finally, staring at James.

"Why not?"

"I hate people gawking at me." Harry said.

"They'll gawk at me too, I'm supposed to be dead, remember? Plus I'm your dad. I've already had three marriage proposals."

Harry choked on his orange juice. "What?" he spluttered.

"Madwomen, the lot of them." James said dismissively. "We'll go after you've changed; robes would probably be best today."

"I'm working today, I've got schoolwork to keep up with," Harry said sullenly.

"We are going shopping, Harry." James said sternly. "You can catch up with school work tomorrow if it's really bothering you."

Harry flung himself from the table, knowing he had lost the argument, and went to get changed. He returned ten minutes later to find James waiting for him.

"Come on then, we have to take the public Floo; I'll get us hooked up while we're out." Harry followed his father out of the door and to the public Floo.

"You first, Harry." his father said. Harry scowled. "Diagon Alley. And don't get out at the wrong grate, please?"

Harry threw his handful of Floo powder into the fire. "Diagon Alley!" he yelled as he stepped into it.

Spinning fireplaces appeared in his vision until he closed his eyes, bit his lip and prayed. Then, finally, he fell out of the Floo at the Leaky Cauldron. He hurried to his feet, ignoring the staring patrons of the pub, and waited for James to come through. He appeared in a flash of green and stepped out of the grate carefully, placing his cane steadily on the ground.

He grabbed a clothes brush and passed it to Harry who began to brush off his clothes vigorously. James went to talk to Tom, the barkeep, and Harry glowered at him from under his fringe, feeling like a freak as every eye was on either him or his father. James had a quiet discussion with Tom before returning to Harry. "Ready?" he asked. Harry nodded and followed him out the back of the pub.

Heads turned as they walked down the street, whispering grew louder and some people even followed them. James ignored them all, a smile on his face as he looked in shop window after shop window. Harry kept level with him but refused to look either way, his eyes fixed in front of him, his face carefully blank. Occasionally he would look at James, then away when his father met his eyes. James' smile would twitch for a moment, before he went back to window shopping.

They were making their way to Gringotts, and Harry was relieved when they finally got there. He almost ran up the steps, stopping at the door to hold it open for James. He got a nod in thanks and followed his father into the bank.

The moment they were inside James' demeanour changed. He stood tall and his stride lengthened. He headed up the hall, straight to the goblin at the far end. He leant against the counter and leant in, catching the outraged eye of the goblin. The outrage faded in a moment. Harry suddenly realised that this must be a high up goblin, who worked with special customers. Almost all the other goblins had two or three customers waiting.

"Mr Potter," the goblin drawled finally, putting his quill in his ink pot and leaning forwards. "Such a pleasure to have your custom once again."

"I'm sure," James said sarcastically. "I'm sure you're just jumping in your seat when you think how I've come to claim that small gold pile you've been sitting on for fifteen years, hoping no one would claim it for another ten, haven't you?"

"Not at all, Mr Potter, we have been taking very good care of your money and property whilst you have been otherwise disposed. How can I help you today, sir?"

"I want a full cover check on all the vaults myself and my son own, including interest over the last fifteen years, etcetera. You know the drill, Gurg,"

"Of course, Mr Potter. I shall get onto it right away."

"For now I want to visit the main vault. I want the checks done by three this afternoon. I shall return to collect them after that time."

"Certainly, sir. I shall have Grishhack take you to the vault instantly. Right this way, sirs," they were ushered through a door behind the counter where another goblin was standing next to a cart. But unlike the carts Harry had been on previously in Gringotts this one was comfortable, plush and went at a reasonable speed. Harry relaxed across from his father and stared.

"What?" James asked finally.

"All the other times I've been here we've ridden in rickety carts that made you feel as though you would fall out any moment. Now I've learnt we have more than one vault, that the goblins treat you with respect… I'm just confused."

"The Potters are a rich family, Harry. Did no one ever tell you?" Harry shook his head. "What rich families do you know of?" James asked, looking resigned.

"Malfoy?" Harry hazarded.

"From what I can guess we're seven times richer. You are the heir to a great lineage, Harry. It's rumoured we have the blood of Merlin in our veins, though I'm not sure I believe that." the cart slowed to a stop and James climbed out. "Come see some of what you are inheriting." He said cheerfully, placing his hand on the plain door of number 73.

It shimmered for a moment then melted. James stepped in and Harry followed.

It was like a museum. Statues, furniture, gold and jewels filled every space.

Harry thought he could live in this place all his life and not know half of what it contained.

His father was rummaging around to his left however and Harry joined him cautiously.

"Wey hey!" James said finally, drawing something out of a pile. It was a small chest, the lock looking simple. Harry suspected it wasn't. "Right, now we've got this we can go get some cash and then hit the shops, how about it Harry?"

Harry was looking at the box and was so startled that he nearly smiled. Instead he shrugged. James disappeared again, leaving the box with Harry. He knelt down next to it and had a good look. It was wooden, but heavy, and Harry had the odd suspicion it was not just locked by a key. It seemed to shimmer in his vision.

"It's called the Family Box. All the old families have them." James said behind Harry, who jumped. For a man who walked with a cane James could move silently. Harry stood and dusted off his knees, acting indifferent. James smiled sadly and levitated the box into the cart.

Harry blinked in the bright sunlight outside. James had left the box with the goblins to deliver to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Right!" James said, rubbing his hands. "Clothes first! Madam Malkin to the rescue once again." Harry followed dully.

Two hours later he was nodding off while being fitted for yet another set of robes. And they hadn't even started on Muggle clothes.

The problem was, he was starting to enjoy wearing clothes that fit him. When not standing stolidly on the stool he was paying close attention to what was happening around him, all about cuts and hems and colour and he found, eventually, that he was starting to understand what was being said.

It turned out he didn't need to be fitted for the Muggle clothes, for which he was truly grateful. Apparently his father trusted Madam Malkin enough for her to get it right for Harry. The order was to be sent to the house within two days, with a few sets to go home with them that day. They left the shop after paying, leaving a very happy shop woman behind them.

"Ice cream." James said. Harry looked at him, frowning. "You and me are going to have ice cream next, we'll finish shopping, and I'll go to the Ministry to conect us to the Floo and a few other details that need sorting..."

* * *

"Chocolate Rack." 

"You can't beat strawberry!"

"Chocolate, with the blue and pink sauce all over it, then the sprinkle things, then another scoop of chocolate covered in their rich melted chocolate and one of those green things on top." Harry said sagely. "We had a competition in Hogsmead last year, and that's what everyone said was the best." He paused, and then added "Except Luna but she preferred the cabbage."

James looked at his son mildly, but underneath he was shocked. It was the most Harry had said to him at any one time. For a moment Harry met his gaze and then looked away, slightly embarrassed James thought, and smiled weakly at the man behind the counter who was waiting for their order.

"Two chocolate racks then please." James said levelly, and saw, out of the corner of his eye, Harry look at him in surprise. He ignored the look for now and Harry carried their ice cream to the table.

"Tell me about Hermione," James said suddenly after they had started at their mountains.

"What about her?" Harry asked blankly, jabbing the ice cream forcefully.

"Well, how did you first meet her?"

"She was looking for Neville's toad on the Hogwarts Express."

"What?"

"Neville Longbottom always looses his toad, and Hermione was helping him to find it. Ron was about to turn… turn his rat yellow and she said it was a stupid spell and flounced off."

"Not the best of meetings then," James said mildly.

"Not really. When we saved her from the troll at Halloween though we got more friendly. Knocking out a twelve foot troll will do that to people."

"Why on earth were you fighting a twelve foot troll!" James said incredulously, looking at Harry in shock.

"It was let in by the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Quirrel." Harry explained. "He wanted a distraction so he could try and get hold of the Philosopher's Stone without being interrupted."

"That still doesn't answer why you were fighting a troll!" James said through a mouth full of ice cream.

"Hermione was hiding in the girls toilets. Me and Ron locked the troll in with her by accident, so we had to go rescue her. I leapt on its back and my wand got stuck up its nose. Ron cast Wingardium Leviosa on its club and knocked it out."

James nodded and swallowed. "I guess that would make people more friendly with each other. If they're decent people, that is (Snape)." He amended darkly. Harry shot a curious look at him. "What about other girls then? That red head, what's her name?"

"Ginny. She's Ron's little sister, I rescued her from the Chamber of Secrets in my second year, when she was a first year." Harry didn't understand why he was telling James all about this. He frowned slightly, trying to puzzle it out as he continued. "A memory of Voldemort possessed her and she was setting a Basilisk on Muggle born students. Then Tom Riddle, that's Voldemort's real name, he tried to drain her, but I managed to kill the Basilisk and use its fang to destroy the diary. It bit me, see. The tooth broke off." Harry looked at his hands. For some reason it sounded… fake. As though it was a fairy story. He didn't think his father would believe him, and he chanced a look up. James was staring at him in shock.

"I knew you had a lot of dangerous encounters, Harry." he said, his voice slightly choked. "But do you have any encounters with girls that don't stem, or are caused, by one such encounter?"

Harry thought, and James realised that what had meant to be a light question was actually so hard to answer.

"Well, there was Cho. I noticed her through Quidditch, really, and I asked her to the Ball in fourth year, but I only asked her because I was in the Triwizard Tournament and I needed a date. I wouldn't have asked anyone otherwise. And then Cedric… Cedric died, and she was going out with him at the time... We did go out on a date last year, but it didn't go so well. Then her best friend sold us out to the acting headmistress and we haven't spoken since. She kissed me though."

"How was it?" James asked, an eyebrow raised.

"I can't remember." Harry replied honestly. "But I remember telling Ron it was wet."

James burst into laughter. Harry looked down, scowling. "Sorry," James managed to apologise, grinning still. "But that doesn't sound like you had the best experience."

"It wasn't, really." Harry shrugged, reaching the bottom of his bowl. He stared at it silently for a while.

* * *

**Reviews! Not so many this time... :(**

I-Shave-Clowns- he does seem sad doesn't he? Aww, poor Harry >:-)

Knightly- Thanks, people have been commentating on my wording alot lately, and I must say it makes my insides all warm and fluffy :D Thanks for the Review

vaguely amused - Hope you liked the 'Girls' Scene, I found it fun to write, and it is all true. I can't think of any Girl interaction that hasn't been like I said, can you? Also the Paintings, I hadn't considered writing, though I expect it would be easier than painting. I might make a scene later on incorporating your idea, it has merit.

Strega - I agree, I'd do the same I think. And if Harry was my son I _would_ lock him away! No way a kid of mine is going to face the Dark Lord, no matter how well equiped.I might have to do a one-shot on that idea of yours, locking harry away. I can see VERY manyfunny stories coming from that :D Glad you liked the painting, wasnt sure if it was ok or not when I came up with it, but loads of people seemed to like it. Thanks for the review!

volleypickle16- Thanks

FrostyAKF- Now, first off, your review was fantastic. I loved it, I'm gonna print it and hang it on my wall lol! Thanks for all the praise, I swear I don't deserve it. There are others out there far better than me, I'm sure. I may one day try to write my own story, but until then it's fan fiction all the way lol!

SunStar Kitsune- His first memory from the Dursleys. You'll find out what soon. Then he painted older memories, up to when he started Hogwarts.

Mordacis- I know what you mean; Harry should be tiny shouldn't he lol! I hate it when people say he is as tall as Ron, or make him really tall. I know what you mean, James is letting his fear show thorough slightly in the last chapter. You'll see more in chapter 10, which is looking to be long, or 11. Thanks for the boost on the Painting, I wasn't sure if people would like that, and I thought it was a good way to end the chappy too. Jedi is cool, All hail Jedi!


	8. Silent Sorrow

**James Potter, My Father**

**A/N 1 - Chapter 8 is finally here... oh god I'm tired lol. My boyfriends parents are moving away so he's had to move in with me and we've moved him in today. It's been a nightmare, I'm telling you. Ah well, this chapter is NOT my favorite one, I couldnt get the ending to go where I wanted it too, plus I'm not sure I got Harry's reaction to the money quite right, but I couldn't see how to make it better. If people like this chapter then I guess it is good, but I'm not sure lol. Still, it's up to you :D**

**Ok, there is sort of mentions of abuse later on in this chapter. You'll know when there is a page break line. That is the only warning you will have, though there is nothing graphic there. I'll tell ppl in the next chapter what all that was about if ppl are wondering in reviews, but I hope I did ok. **

**WARNING! Chapter 10 will have MENTIONS of violence, as will chapters after that. If there is any violent scenes shown then I will put a mention at the beginning of the chapter. I won't put markers around them, because I think that inturrupts the flow of the story, but I will try and make sure people are warned before hand.**

**Well, enjoy!**

**

* * *

Chapter8 **

**Silent Sorrow**

Harry pushed his new glasses up his nose slightly, amazed at how everything was in _focus_ now. He had never realised how unsuited his old glasses had been. Everything looked like crystal, and he didn't think he'd have any trouble seeing the snitch during matches… he remembered he didn't play Quidditch anymore. The elation at being able to see so well dulled slightly and he followed his father sombrely.

Why was he doing this? Harry didn't _need_ these things! He could manage with the clothes he had, his school trunk held all he needed it to, his old glasses had worked well enough. James… he was making Harry feel very awkward. He wasn't used to people spoiling him. Hell, he had trouble when he had to see his friends when they gave him gifts; he didn't know how to thank people properly. He followed James, however, and tried to ignore the painful feeling in his gut.

James headed unerringly towards Quality Quidditch Supplies, entering with the enthusiasm of a school boy. Harry watched him buy three of the latest brooms, at a price that made Harry wince, several sets of balls, with several different functions, full armour for both of them, and, from a display case with so many protection charms on it you could get no closer than three feet from it, a Quaffle signed by the entire English Quidditch team. Harry was more interested in the Bludger signed by the Chudley Cannons, thinking faintly that Ron would like this, before coming to his senses and scowling at his reflection.

Ever since his father had come back he had been finding it more and more difficult to ignore his feelings. During the holidays, when he had decided that, to prevent more deaths, he must shut his friends out, push them away from him, he had locked his emotions behind a thick wall. He still felt them, felt the shame as he watched his friends cry, or the longing to reach out as they yelled, wanting to ask them to forgive him. But he couldn't. Things had to be as they were. Now though… his father was breaking down the wall inside him, no matter how fast Harry tried to patch it up.

Outside, their purchases being sent to the house, James turned to Harry and smiled. "Here you go, Harry." Harry caught the money bag before he even realised what was being thrown at him. He stared at his father in confusion. "Meet me in the Leaky Cauldron in an hour and a half."

"What's this?" Harry asked quietly, indicating the bag.

James grinned lopsidedly. "Pocket money. Don't spend it all at once, you hear?" And, laughing at some joke that Harry didn't understand, James hobbled off.

Harry understood a while later when, opening the bag, he saw the amount of gold glinting out at him. He stared at his fathers back in shock as the man danced around a corner and out of sight.

He was after the man instantly, swinging around the corner angrily, ready to hiss at the man…

He was gone, leaving Harry standing in the middle of the street, frowning in confusion. Where was he? How had he vanished so quickly?

James watched his son from a doorway hidden from sight. Harry was holding the bag as though it would explode in his face, looking almost earnestly about. And was that… fear? James frowned. Perhaps he had been too fast? Was Harry not ready to accept such a thing from him yet? Frowning slightly he stepped out of the shop, allowing Harry to see him. His son almost ran over, waving the bag around almost wildly. He was glad the street was nearly empty for what was sure to be an astounding argument.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" Harry snarled. "I don't need this, I don't need your charity!"

James blinked. He had never even considered that Harry might consider it charity. He had thought his son would object to the pressure it put on him to have to ask his father for money for anything. Obviously this didn't seem to be the case. Could it be that Harry was accepting him faster than he thought?

"Harry, this isn't charity," James said as he ushered Harry gently into a café table and sat down himself. "It's your pocket money. You know the vault that you have been using all these years? That was the vault your mother set up so that you would have access to your pocket money, and we could ban you from access to it if you misbehaved. That money came from there, we had it made when we first started the account. Every week five galleons is paid into your account. It is money that you should have been spending all your life! It is rather full, I admit, which is why you must have thought it our only vault. But, Harry, it is your money. I'm not giving you money, I'm giving you _your _money. You can spend it how you like." He paused, remembered his childhood, rephrased. "Within reason. No porn, no drugs, nothing illegal. There was more but I forget, I'll look it up when we get back."

"This is money from my vault?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Upon my honour as a Potter." James put his hand theatrically over his heart. "Full to what it should be if you hadn't taken any out over the years."

"But…"

"No buts, I couldn't be fiddling around with the details. It's all your money, Harry. To spend as you see fit. Now, I'm going to connect us to the Floo network and some other small details, you go spend some money. By some presents, for friends, yourself, me… I'm partial to pink, good sir," James grinned and fluttered his eyelashes. He thought, for a moment, that Harry's lips had fought not to laugh. He walked off, now content in the knowledge that his son was on his way to healing.

Harry's first buy was a bandana. He didn't want people to stare at him all day. Without the scar and hair to give him away, and new glasses, he walked unnoticed through the crowded streets. He bought a few items that caught his fancy, most of them security devices, but he did buy himself a pot of colour changing ink, a book that he had thought briefly, subconsciously, that Hermione might like to read, and, after chewing on his lip for a moment, the Chudley Cannons Bludger. Once outside he stared at it in nervousness, then hurried away, quickly stuffing it in a bag.

He was making his way to meet with his father when something caught his eye in a shop. Something in him jerked, his lips twitched, and he ducked into the shop, emerging with a smile he did not realise he was wearing, and another package tucked in his bag.

Harry found his father pouring over an old book that looked to be falling apart without even being touched. His father had such an intense look on his face that Harry was loathed to interrupt, but the man waved him into a seat, saying as he did so, quite frantically, "I'm desperately trying to figure out why kamikaze pilots wore helmets."

It made Harry blink for a moment, searching for the reference. Then he choked, his lips curved, and he saw his father peeking at him mischievously from under his eyebrows.

"You liked that one, huh?" James said, grinning openly. "How about this? I once heard two ladies going on and on about the pains of childbirth and how men don't seem to know what real pain is. _I_ asked if either of them ever got themselves caught in a zipper."

Something melted a little more within Harry and he relaxed. He hadn't realised how tense he had been recently, and now, consciously thinking on it, he realised he was aching all over. His smile slowly faded, his eyes saddened and his head drooped slightly.

A hand slid across the table, resting lightly on his.

"Let's go home, Harry. I think it is past time for me to teach you how to make your mothers favourite recipe when things look dark." Harry looked up with dull surprise and query. "Hot chocolate, marshmallows, and a warm fire."

* * *

They sat in the informal lounge, the only light source the fireplace, the windows blacked out to prevent any intrusions. A tray of hot chocolate sat before them, tiny marshmallows floating in the rich liquid. Harry sat curled up in an armchair, a cup held tightly between his hands, ignoring the slightly too hot mug, staring wordlessly into the fire. His father sat next to him, waiting. 

"Dumbledore said you went to live with Petunia," James said mildly, sipping at the hot liquid carefully.

"Yeah."

"We made Sirius your guardian for a reason. In fact we made it quite clear that you were never to go near your aunt…"

"Sirius was in prison," Harry scowled. "And Dumbledore needed me somewhere safe."

"What were they like to you?"

He saw his son thinking, his eyes never moving from his marshmallows as he did so.

"They didn't like me being there."

"What did they do?"

"… I used to do things and they'd punish me. That's all."

"Like what?"

"Dudley would do something and blame it on me… or… I'd use magic…"

"How did they punish you?"

Harry shrugged, curling up slightly. "They locked me in my cupboard."

James' ears pricked. "Your cupboard?" he asked, sharper than he meant to he realised as Harry flinched.

"My bedroom," his son hastily amended.

"You said your cupboard, Harry."

"I meant my bedroom," his son tried to assure him, but James stood and sat on the arm of Harry's chair.

"You said cupboard, Harry." This close he could see that Harry was shaking slightly, and he reached out to put an arm around his shoulders. He ignored the near violent flinch from his son and pulled him slowly but firmly closer.

"I had a friend when I was in school,"James said quietly. "He was a brilliant guy, good in his classes, short, handsome, but he was quiet, and he tried to make himself smaller. He always looked forward to returning to school, while I wanted to stay home a lot. I missed my parents when I was at school you see. He never talked about his home life much. His mother seemed ill a lot, and he never spoke of his father. Then, one day in our fifth year, we worked out that he was a werewolf. When he told him, it was just me and Sirius. Peter was too scared at the time. Our friend told us he would understand that we didn't want to be his friends anymore, and he would go to Dumbledore and get a different room. It was the beginning of the school year, just a week in, and I grabbed his arm as he went to leave. He was standing so tall, so dignified, so determined that he wouldn't cry or run.

"When I grabbed him however he pulled away with such a gasp I thought I had somehow burned him. He broke down and told us all about what his home life was like, how his mother hated him, starved him when it was coming up to the full moon in the hope to weaken him, how his father would beat him for being such a scourge on the family. It seemed like hours, and all Sirius and me could do was look at each other in horror and promise him that we wouldn't abandon him, that we wouldn't shun him just because he was something he couldn't help, something others didn't understand. That night me and Sirius learnt everything we could about werewolves in the Restricted Section, and our friend stayed our friend, and he only went back to his home once after that. Now, I'm not going to tell you who that person is; when he wants you to know then he will tell you. But, no matter what those people said or did to you I am not going to get angry, I am not going to hurt you, I will sit here and listen to everything you have to say, that I know, deep inside you, you really want to tell someone. All the secrets, all the fears, all of it, and this time I wont just sit here, feeling horror over what you suffered. I will do everything in my power to make it up to you, and I will do my best to make it better."

Harry was trembling throughout his speech and the instant he stopped his young son turned and buried his head in his chest. James slid into the chair next to his son and listened to the monstrosities that poured from his mouth.

With each one he made a promise.

The Dursley's would pay.

* * *

**A/N2 - **Yes, at the end there James is forgetting that Harry already knows Remus. So, here is the big 'This is what happened to me' so we gotta have the big drop down soon ya? Well, you only have to wait til chapter ten for that. The next chapter will be more 'You're my dad, Puppy dog eyes' stuff, but (those who like that) Will hate me chapter 10 onwards (not sure how long yet) and those who dont like that will love me :D Tune in soon

**Review Responses;**

**Uhhhhh... I'll do it later, I'm far too tired now but I really wanted this up _now_! Lol. To the Crazy-Person who rambled, you remind me scarily of me at your age, AKE you seem to be someone who is going to love me, the two ppl who revied today, good on you, you kicked me up the a... bum sufficiently enough to get this out lol. L8r all.**


	9. Healing Harry

**James Potter, My Father**

**A/N 1 - My word, has it really been that long! I am so, so sorry its been so long, I started a job about a week or so after posting the last chapter and I haven't had any energy since then to concentrate on writing much. Well, I hope you like this chapter, the action starts a little earlier than I planned but if it hadnt this chapter would have been teeny. I'll try to get the next chapter up soon but no promises I'm afraid, but trust me, I'm not going to give up on this story anytime soon :D**

**Enjoy!**

**

* * *

Chapter 9 **

**Healing Harry**

The moment he had left Harry's room after tucking him in James lost the battle to keep his stomach content. When he was done he balanced himself on weak, shaky arms and stared at the mess he had made on the once luxurious carpet. Staggering to his feet, not hearing the worried pop behind him as a house-elf appeared, he stumbled blindly to his room.

He had been tortured for fifteen years, and he knew what torture was, but the torture, the torment, that his son had been through made him think that perhaps he had had the better end of the deal. While he had only been beaten occasionally, and had been healed from most of his more severe injuries, his son had been beaten daily, abused, neglected, enslaved and tortured from people who hadn't even told him his name before he started school.

"I told one of the neighbours it was my birthday; I don't know how I even found out to tell the truth. Aunt Petunia was so mad, but she bought out something wrapped up and put it on top of the telly. I remember I just kept looking at it, my first ever birthday present.

"The neighbour left that evening and uncle Vernon hit me and locked me in my cupboard for a month. I was starving, and my arm was broken, and I think maybe some ribs, but all I could think of was that present. I asked, when I got out, and uncle Vernon beat me again.

"Then he tried to rape me."

Bile rose in his throat again and he retched dryly. Accidental magic had saved Harry that time, and future times, but the beast had tried.

He shivered in his bed for a long while, trying to comprehend what he had been told. Then, slowly, he began to plot. The Dursley's would not get away with this, he swore.

Next morning James was tired, but not so that he failed to notice that Harry was silent through breakfast. He also didn't eat much, poking his cereal around the bowl lethargically. James knew he had to do something to distract his son, to make him realise that he would not be shunned because of what he had told him.

He swallowed and spoke. "How about we go try out our brooms? I'm dying to try out the new Crystal, it's supposed to be the chasers dream broom, apparently. Me, I don't think you could ever beat the old Clean Sweeper 24, but…"

"Clean Sweepers are a household broom now, no one uses them for Quidditch. The Nimbus and Firebolt's are the sports brooms now." James tried not to stare once he realised he was doing so. That was the second time in as many days Harry had spoken to him without prompting. Once over ice cream, now over brooms. He had to be doing something right… right?

"Lets go try them out then!" he said energetically, pushing all insecurity away. He rushed to the Quidditch room, and Harry followed, hanging back, but still he followed.

Harry held the new broom in his hand. He could feel its power just by holding it, thrumming under his hands eagerly, waiting to be away. His father was already in the air, swooping around the giant room like a bird.

One leg over the handle, two hands griping the beautiful white and gold wood… it wouldn't hurt to just… try it out. He could do a few laps, then leave. He didn't have to stay… just a few laps.

He rose into the air without realising it, his feet leaving the ground gently. Automatically they went to the foot rests, he settled himself slightly more comfortably… then realised what he was doing. He shot a guilty look at his father, but the man was paying him no attention. He leant forward slightly and the broom shot off.

Instantly he was in heaven, back in the air where he belonged. After so long away now he was back home, the wind pushing his hair and his clothes and his glasses back, leaning into it to feel it best and to go faster, leaning, leaning, leaning for the best of turns. Faster and faster he shot around the enclosed pitch, barrel rolling, swerving between the three posts, trick after trick, back where he belonged.

Then, without warning, he swerved sharply and shot to the middle of the pitch, so close to the ground his toes were in danger of touching it. Once he was there he shot vertical. Eyes fixed on the ceiling, his lungs full of energy and happiness, he threw his hands off the broom and yelled. Still he rose, the momentum of the broom continuing until his outstretched hand lightly brushed the ceiling…

And then he was falling backwards off the broom, arms outstretched like a bird, a swan dive to the solid floor below, and his broom was falling with him, out of sight as it lined up with his spine, speed for speed they plummeted to the floor below…

And then his eyes snapped open and he seemed to twist in mid air. His hand wrapped around the broom handle, his body was flat against it and he felt his feet brush the floor, and in his left hand…

Fluttered the golden snitch.

All good things must end, which is why Harry and his father were now boarding the Hogsmead Overnight Express, new trunks bashing along behind them, brooms perched carefully over their shoulders in special cases. They entered their private compartment and set about making themselves comfortable for the night.

When Harry asked whether James would like to play chess to pass the time an hour after departure, he refused to look him in the eye. James, stunned into silence for a long moment, finally agreed, sitting down and setting up the chess set.

Neither decided to comment on Harry's tentative use of 'Dad' at that time.

The week had turned out better than either of them had expected. After that morning of Quidditch the two of them had begun to relax around each other, neither really wanting to risk breaking their tentative bond, but neither wishing to try to push it further. James took Harry's timid use of 'dad' to mean that, hopefully, his son was willing to accept him.

They were nearing Hogsmead in the early hours when there was a screeching of metal on metal and the train jerked sharply to a halt. Screams and shouts filled the air in seconds and Harry was sitting stunned on the compartment floor while James had his wand out and was looking carefully out of the door window.

"People are boarding the train," James whispered harshly, swirling round to crouch before his son who had now found his wand and moved the heavy trunk off his leg.

"It's not broken," Harry said quietly, wincing all the same.

"Good. Harry, I want you to stay here no matter what. Don't leave this compartment unless you are in danger or I come to get you, do you hear me?"

"But—"

"No, no buts, just stay here and hide. Don't let anyone in, stun anyone other than me, alright?" he pulled his son into a quick hug. "I can't loose you again," he muttered into the black hair.

Then he was gone, and Harry stared at the closed door where he had last seen his father.

"But I don't want to loose you either," he whispered as the lights on the train went out.

James shot two people with stunners before anyone knew another person had joined the fray. Then he was in the thick of the action, shooting spells into the dark at the brief flashes of white in black. He was hit a glancing blow by spells that he shook off or ignored, his wand never ceasing.

He didn't know how long he had been fighting in the mad confusion before he met up with someone he knew. Kingsley Shacklebolt, an Aurour in the Order and two years older than him and Lily in school.

"What happened?" he shouted over the din. "I thought Dumbledore said he thought we were going back through the Floo?"

"Someone tipped him off," Shacklebolt shouted back, dodging a red spell before shooting off his own. "Dumbledore is over there, holding him back right now. We had to gather pretty fast before—!" James had no time to stop and help the fallen man, and now no reason to do so. The green light had dissipated before his body had hit the ground. He stepped over it emotionlessly, blasting the person who had killed the man with two children and a wife, before returning to the fray, no emotion on his face.

Harry did as he was told. He rolled under one of the beds, blocked himself in with the two trunks, kept tightly hold of his broom in case of a quick escape, and waited. The first flash of green had him wanting to throw up, and after that he kept his eyes shut.

He didn't know how long he waited in the dark, lit only by spell light. One hand gripping hard to his wand, the other to his broom he stayed silent and alone.

And then the door opened. His eyes were open his wand prepared the spell was already on his lips before he recognised the harassed figure before him.

"D... Dad!" he stuttered. His fathers face was covered in blood, his glasses were missing and half his hair seemed to be burnt off.

"Harry!" his fathers voice was harsh and guttural. It was still recognisable however and he scrambled out from under the bed. "They're too many, we have to get out of here. Dumbledore gave me a portkey but they put up portkey wards so we're going to have to reach those trees before we can use it." His father was looking out of the door as he spoke, pointing to the tree line that was about two hundred foot from them.

Between them and the trees, however, was the battlefield.

"We'll never make it." Harry hissed, crawling to look out the window.

"Yes we will, now come on!" his wrist was gripped in a hand that felt like steel and he was out on the battlefield before he knew it. He shot curses off into the dark as accurately as he could but it seemed his father was more intent on their destination than what lay between them.

Fifty feet from the trees Harry though he heard a voice he recognised call after them. Thirty a Death Eater, his white mask dripping red, turned to face them. It seemed to hover for a moment, staring at his father, before he turned from them. Harry was stunned. They had been close enough for the Death Eater to have killed them both easily. Why hadn't he?

They hit the trees, and still they didn't seem to be stopping.

"Dad!" Harry called, ducking and dodging low branches, leaping over fallen logs and underbrush. "Dad where are we going!"

"Not far!" his father called back.

Harry clung on tight and prayed.

When they burst into a clearing and his scar burst into flames he knew that, somehow, he had been tricked again.

James couldn't have said what had made him turn just then, look towards the trees behind him. Two figures were running for the trees, two familiar figures that made his snap out of his frenzy.

"Harry!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. He saw his sons head try to turn, only to jerk forward again as the figure dragging him along jerked his arm harshly. His feet took off and his legs went too and his body was obliged to follow before his brain caught up with what he had seen. He shouted for help, shouted but paid no heed to what was going on around him. His world tunnelled to the two figures running away from him.

They vanished into the trees. He followed, his breath coming in harsh bursts now, his lungs burned and his legs stumbled, but still he ran. He burst into the clearing in time to see his son collapse to the ground, hands clutching his forehead, and lord Voldemort standing above him, laughing.

Red eyes met brown, and then the three figures vanished.

James fell to his knees, not hearing the pops behind him that signalled the other Death Eaters Disapparating from the battle. He didn't hear the people crash into the clearing behind him, didn't hear their questions or feel their hands.

He knew only one thing.

His Harry was gone.

"James? James?"

James blinked and focused finally on the mug that Molly was trying to push into his hand. He took it automatically and just sat there, watching the hot liquid cool.

"…no word of where he would be taken. We haven't seen the Dark Lord since it happened, no one is saying where they took the brat…"

James left the room. He didn't need to know what the bastard Snape was saying about his son. They had no idea where he was and now, after three days of searching, James knew what he had to do.

He quickly Flooed to Godric Hallow from the kitchen in Grimmauld Place and made his way upstairs, not waiting for the stairs to carry him up. He knew what he had to do, knew what he was about to do was stupid beyond all reason, and still he continued to climb the stairs to his bedroom.

In the safe in the study that joined onto the large, spacious room he took out the box he had removed from the Potter Vault. He laid it gingerly on the coffee table in his sitting room and then called for one of the house elves, leaving him with strict instructions to go to Grimmauld Place only _after_ he had opened the box, which left him twisting his ears pathetically.

Then he opened the lid to the family box.

Two seconds later he hit the floor. The house elf disappeared, and the Order of the Phoenix invaded the house as soon as humanly possible. But it was too late.

James Potter was gone.

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**A/N 2 HELLO all my fans! I am BACK! Ok, quickly because I know im going to be kicked off anymoment now, Reviews are very much appreciated and they make me think 'Gotta write some more on that!' so muchos reviews pls peeps!**

**Hugs and Kisses!**

**Cattatra**


	10. Soul Searching

**A/N BAD AUTHOUR!!! BAD BAD BAD!!! I blame finding the man of my dreams and falling head over heals in love. He's made me too happy to write if that makes sense, so my muse took a holiday to get away from our mush. She came back for a visit tonight though, though whether she'll be around for long I don't know. **

**As this is my fic with the MOST REVIEWS, VIEWS AND C2'S it was updated first. I'm hoping to do another chapter for something else but whether it happens who knows!

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Pain. Pain beyond measure. Pain so acute he wasn't sure what life was like without the pain. Even when it stopped his body hummed and thudded with it, and the voices that talked in his nightmares taunted him for his screams and pleading.

After a while nothing seemed to matter. He had lost all sense of being, merely floating somewhere in his own mind, somewhere that the pain didn't matter so much. He felt his body contort still, heard the hoarse screams and the piercing laughter, but none of it penetrated into his tiny safe world.

He was standing on a pure white beach, the palm trees behind him and a beautiful night sky above him. Galaxies spun as he watched, super nova occurred and planets and suns were born. Colours swirled in incomprehensible patterns as though a child had grabbed a paintbrush and painted all the brightest colours available to him.

The world around him was still. Silence was the main sound. This place, he decided, was beautiful. No one but himself and endless sand and sea. Peace, rest, relief.

He sat down abruptly. He wasn't sure why this place was so different from what he was used to. Memories were slipping away from him like the grains of sand on the beach would through fingers. A shiny residue was left on the palms of his mind, but no way to recover the lost grains.

How long he hid here he didn't know. The dangerous dance of stars above his head were constantly changing, the deep blue sea never changed his waving pattern, and the sand beneath him was as white as when he had first arrived.

By his side, as though the sand had shifted to reveal it laid now a deep green stone. It was thin and came to a point at the end facing the sea. Shaped like a wand carved of emerald its beauty was unmatched in anything that he could see. He stroked it gently.

And now someone else was here. A beautiful woman, red hair streaming down her back, her white dress seeming to grow out of the sand at her tiny feet. He looked up, his emerald eyes meeting equally intense eyes, cold fire glowing at him.

_Your father has done a dangerous thing. He has opened the Family Box. If he does not find you in twenty-four of mortal hours he shall die, along with all who hold his Potter bloodline. You. _

Her melodious voice came not from her mouth but the entire world. Great and terrible at the same time, it was the voice of song birds and volcanoes, of angels and demons, of stars and destruction.

He could not remember what words meant, but what she had said was not in words but in memories, dreams, fantasies and ideas. Forced into his being he gasped and shuddered, for a split second forced back into the dark room filled with pain and hatred. When he opened his eyes again she was kneeling in front of him, her dress flowing around her as though a great wind was tearing at her, her hair whipping across her face.

_He will never find you alone, Harry Potter. You must turn and meet him! Stand, and face your fears, face what you must become and refuse to become it! Become what you have always dreamed to be, and find your father in twenty-four hours!_

Screaming he launched himself up and through the suddenly insubstantial figure of his mother. Instead he found himself hitting a large male body, the Emerald wand driving forward to drive itself into the mans chest. The two of them landed on the floor, the wand buried deep in the mans chest.

He stood without emotion and looked back at the slab behind him. His body lay there, broken and destroyed. He looked forward again and picked up the wand.

_Twenty-Four Mortal Hours…_

He took one step forward out of the dungeon…

…and into a bedroom at Grimmauld Place.

His father lay on the bed, Madam Pomfrey standing over him with her wand in hand. Others stood around the room, Snape, Mr Weasley, Old Dumbledore looking older than ever.

He walked through Remus Lupin who was sitting holding James Potters hand with a blank look on his face. Harry reached down and took the hand in his and lifted it out of Remus'.

His father opened his eyes and sat up in bed, looking at his son.

_Come._ Harry said silently, leading his father off the bed and out of the room. They arrived in the dungeon again and he felt his father gasp silently.

_Come._ He said again. _Come. Fast. Time is running out._

James Potter felt his hand released and his son vanished from before him. He turned to face the wind that was now rushing around him. The world was a swirling vortex of colour and noise, fire and cloud filling his vision. Lost and confused he stumbled forward until he felt a hand touch his lightly.

_James…_ a voice, whispered in the darkness, leading him true. When back in his body he would know exactly where his son was, but until that time his mortal soul was in peril. The light hand led him on, and indeed light was what the hand was made of. He could not see the owner of the hand, but the voice was familiar, and the flashes of red before him could not all be fire.

They travelled for a long time, longer that James wanted to consider. Then the figure in front of him turned and he was staring into the face of his wife.

_He will gain something many will fear, but it is right and it is not to be stopped. You shall be used but do not let them control him through you. Our son is no bird to be locked in a cage, no matter how gilded the bars may be._

_I will keep our son safe, _he promised

_Keep him **free**._

James was thrown back into his body with a gasp. "I know where Harry is," he said as he leapt out of the bed and across the room. "I know where they are keeping him!"

What had happened since the Family Box had opened was a blur to him, a dream that was rapidly fading, but one piece of knowledge was lodged firmly in his mind. The location of his son.

Around him chaos had ensued, but while the Order of the Phoenix was gathering he promised once again.

_I **will** keep him free._

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_**A/N 2: **Shorter than usuall I think but I really have forgotten where this story was going. I'll fish my notes out over the weekend and see if theres anything written down in hard copy. Sorry for the long gap recently._

Please review, I have 7416 hits, am registered with 17 C2's, this is the favorite of 57 people and 84 people have it on alerts, and yet there are only 127 reviews for nine chapters. Reviews really fuel a writer on, good or bad. Bad are good too because we get uppity and want to prove that person wrong :D

Anyway, hopefully more will be up soon :D


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